


Your words have never left me

by maniasquared



Series: Stucky One-Shots and Drabbles [24]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angry Bucky Barnes, Angst, Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Spoilers, Bucky Barnes & Sam Wilson Friendship, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes and the 21st Century, Bucky Barnes's Metal Arm, Canon Compliant, Canon Divergence - Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Canon Universe, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Heavy Angst, Hurt, Hurt Bucky Barnes, Hurt/Comfort, Isolation, M/M, Marvel Universe, Multi, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Post-Endgame, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Sad, Sad Ending, Sam Wilson Is a Good Bro, Sam Wilson is a Gift, Sam Wilson is a Saint, Uncle Bucky Barnes, What Have I Done, What Was I Thinking?, What-If, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes, endgame steve sucks, i said what i said, sorry i'm sad, sort of canon divergent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-10
Updated: 2019-06-10
Packaged: 2020-03-29 09:32:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19017187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maniasquared/pseuds/maniasquared
Summary: “Bucky—”“No, Sam, he wasn’t supposed to leave me! ‘Till the end of the line,’ right? He abandoned me, don’t you get it?” His sudden outburst took Sam aback. Closing his eyes, he breathed in a few times before continuing, softer this time, “I needed him, and he fucking left.”Or: A look into the aftermath of Steve's ending in 'Avengers Endgame' through Bucky's perspective. (This is not a fix-it fic.)





	Your words have never left me

**Author's Note:**

> "If you were here beside me instead of in New York, if the curve of you was curved on me, I'd tell you that I loved you before I ever knew you, 'cause I loved the simple thought of you. If our hearts are never broken, and there's no joy in the mending, there's so much this hurt can teach us both. There's distance and there's silence, your words have never left me."
> 
> Title from "New York" by Snow Patrol.
> 
> This is un-beta'd.

Bucky knew it was going to happen, knew it from the second Steve walked toward him. There was an aching in his chest; he felt empty, hollowed out and destroyed.

“Don’t do anything stupid ‘til I get back.”

“How can I? You’re taking all the stupid with you.”

He hoped his voice wasn’t quivering as he replied. Despite his attempt at being humorous, the ending fell flat.

This was it: the end. It shouldn’t have been, but he didn’t have a choice. Steve had already made up his mind.

He knew Steve wasn’t going to come back, at least not in the way he hoped, so he wasn’t all that surprised when he saw Steve sat on the bench, facing the water. He was shocked more than anything, couldn’t believe Steve actually did it. His best friend left.

He couldn’t face it; instead, he sent Sam. Bucky and Steve didn’t speak to each other for a long time after the conversation with Sam… after he gave Sam the shield. In fact, they didn’t talk for months, didn’t see each other in person for even longer.

Bucky felt the guilt inside his stomach like a weight. He was in an ocean, and he was drowning. Choking on salt water, it filled his lungs.

He also felt bereavement, which logically didn’t make sense because Steve was still around. Steve was still alive and well, just old. It didn’t matter either way; Bucky lost his best friend that day. Steve lost Bucky so many times, but now Bucky finally lost Steve, right when he had just gotten him back after decades of torture, brain-washing, and violence.

The thought made Bucky’s head spin and gave him the sudden urge to vomit. His hands shook for days on end, unable to stop their trembling no matter what he tried. Closing himself off from the world, he didn’t leave his apartment for months unless he was forced to make a trip to the grocery store, and even then he didn’t go as often as he probably should have. He stopped charging his phone, unplugged most of his electronics, and often didn’t turn on the lights. He was sick of the texts and calls from the other team members trying to check in on him. He avoided those conversations because how could he explain that he’s mourning the death of a person who’s still living?

Sam was the most persistent, though. Goddamn him for being such a caring shithead. The first time he knocked on Bucky’s door, there was no answer. Bucky was home, as always, but he took one look through the peephole and decided to ignore the man on the other side of the door. Rather, he curled up on his mattress, wrapping himself in several blankets to shield himself from crushing reality.

He knew he wasn’t effectively handling his emotions, but he couldn’t help himself. He’d been through hell and back, thought that after he was finally feeling well enough again, he’d be able to live a normal, domestic lifestyle and maybe live it out with Steve. Not even in the romantic way, but the way best friends get to see each other grow and mature over the years, seeing each other reach milestones, being there for the important moments in life, and getting to cherish them together.

Bucky was aware he’d never get a girl, not after his past as the Winter Soldier, but he had more important things on his mind anyway. Back before the war, he had different goals and aspirations. He was young and dumb, naive and eager to see the world, still wet behind the ears. At this time, though, his sides were filed down into jagged edges, and his baby face was long gone. He shed it for a hard mask he had to put on just to keep the demons at bay.

But he thought he’d at least be able to watch Steve settle down with a nice lady and have a big, happy family. Steve had always wanted a bunch of children, and Bucky had never wanted something like that, but the kids would have called him ‘Uncle.’

Uncle Bucky with a metal arm.

That wasn’t going to happen anymore. Not that it was certainly going to happen in the first place, but Bucky had hoped. There it was again, the soul-crushing hope that never seemed to go away, even after going to war and seeing the horrors he did, even after being a ghost story of an assassin who had so much blood on his hands that it would take more than the seven seas to scrub it out, and it probably still wouldn’t all wash away. He guessed there was a small bit of the old, suave Bucky Barnes deep inside him somewhere with those bright eyes and giddy smile. The current, weathered Bucky Barnes hadn’t smiled since he hugged Steve before the fight in Wakanda, before he dusted.

Swaddled under all his blankets, he fell asleep and didn’t dare think about the past; it would have only made things so much worse.

He didn’t care that it was eleven in the morning; sleep was the only thing which brought him even the tiniest bit of joy recently. There was something calming about being dormant for hours at a time, not needing to consciously take care of his body or be acutely aware of his surroundings. Thoughts like those always reminded him how much the Winter Soldier was still a part of him and how it will always be a part of him, most likely. There were going to be moments when he enjoyed the silence and inactivity, where he was numb, a blank slate.

He felt nothing and everything all at once.

Bucky didn’t need to think about his breathing while sleeping, but when he was awake, he was forced to be mindful of every inhale and exhale that occurred in his body. He never thought breathing would be so hard to do, but since his lungs and brain didn’t find it a necessity anymore, what was he going to do? Kill himself? Prove himself to be the coward he was?

No, of course not. He wasn’t even certain if he would be successful, still unsure of what exactly his knock-off serum did for his body.  

So, yes, it felt good to shut his brain off for a while. 

When he awoke, his head throbbed, and he felt dizzy. His whole body was on fire, and there was a small voice in the back of his mind that told him he wasn’t sick.

He was grieving.

Despite his stomach growling unhappily, he couldn’t bring himself to eat. He didn’t have the energy, nor the appetite. So he laid in bed, staring at the ceiling fan or the blank walls to pass the time. He avoided the mirror as he went to the bathroom later that day, had half the heart to break it, wanting it to shatter to pieces around him. He lost a lot of weight; his features were gaunt and almost lifeless staring right back at him. Whenever he looked at his reflection, the same question would pop into his head:  _ was I not enough? _

Then Bucky would call himself stupid; naturally, he wasn’t enough. Why the hell would Steve want to be around someone so goddamn broken?

Bucky couldn’t stand living without his best friend, but it seemed like his best friend could live a perfectly happy life without him.

The second time Sam came to his door, he knocked and said, “I know you’re in there, and I know you’re ignoring me, Barnes. Open up.”

Once again, Bucky retreated into his room and tucked himself away.

The third time Sam stopped by his apartment, Bucky had forgotten to lock the door. When Sam entered, Bucky was curled up with his arms around his shins in the windowsill and staring at the heavy rainfall outside. He didn’t move as the door shut with a soft  _ thud _ .

Sam cautiously walked across the small space and tentatively sat on the other end of the bench, facing Bucky. “Hey,” he said.

He got silence as a response. Bucky hadn’t even looked at him yet. So they sat there, watching the storm. The air was tense, but not overwhelmingly uncomfortable.

After quite some time, Bucky’s voice rasped out (he hadn’t spoken aloud in months), “I miss him.”

Gently, Sam said, “We can go see him if you want?”

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.” Another long stretch of silence. “I thought he moved on.” He said it so quietly Sam almost didn’t hear him.

Mouth pressed into a thin line, Sam said, “Me too.”

“Obviously I didn’t mean as much to him as he did to me,” said Bucky in a menacing tone, “especially if he could just drop everything and go live a life without me in it.”

“Bucky—”

“No, Sam, he wasn’t supposed to leave me! ‘Till the end of the line,’ right? He abandoned me, don’t you get it?” His sudden outburst took Sam aback. Closing his eyes, he breathed in a few times before continuing, softer this time, “I needed him, and he fucking left.”

Sam didn’t know what to say, wasn’t sure if there was anything he could say that would have made it any less bad. His job at the VA didn’t help him in this situation.

“It’s not fair. He got a second chance to live his life how it was meant to be. I don’t get that chance, but I didn’t give a fuck about that chance because I had him after all this time when we shouldn’t have had each other.

“But by some fucked up twist of fate, we had each other again. You don’t just let that go. Sure, he had the opportunity for a second chance at life, but he also had a second chance at having his best friend back.”

He looked at Sam expectantly, an angry glint in his eye. When he didn’t get a response, he continued, “He had us. We were his family, and he decided to leave that behind? It’s fucking bullshit. It’s like we were nothing.” He huffed out a breath. “That’s not like the Steve I know. He’d lay everything down for me, for you, for all of us.”

Bucky shook his head and murmured, “We were there, waiting for him to come back. It was only a minute or two, but for him? He had years of life to enjoy while we were worried that we lost him….”

Silence, deafening silence. Then:

“And in a way, we did.”

**Author's Note:**

> I don't think I'll ever be able to be happy with Steve's ending. I hate it to be honest. But fucking whatever I guess?
> 
> Anyway, please don't start any discourse over this because I don't have the energy nor the emotional capacity to deal with it. Seriously, if you don't like this fic and/or you don't agree with my opinion on Steve's ending, just exit the page and don't comment. There's no need for that.


End file.
